


The Stroke of Midnight

by VerdantMage



Series: in tandem [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Slow Dancing, no beta we die unlike y'shtola
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29450433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMage/pseuds/VerdantMage
Summary: The sharply dressed Miqo’te clears his throat, and his nerves melt away into a quick and charming little smile. He dashes to the window and pushes it open, the picturesque night sky greeting the two of them. A’vett takes that moment and extends a hand to Ardbert. “Oh good sir,” he announces, barely able to contain the mirth in his voice, “won’t you do me the honor of a dance?”The Hume sighs. This reallywasthe other man’s plan. “You can’t be serious.”orIn which a lesson in dancing turns into a private soiree for a Warrior of Darkness and his spectral companion.
Relationships: Ardbert/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: in tandem [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163210
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	The Stroke of Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentione's Day to one ghost boyfriend and to one ghost boyfriend only.

“You’re kind of ruining the mood, you know.”

Ardbert opens his eyes, reverie in music coming from the orchestrion broken at a single sentence. He raises a brow in reply. “I’ve just been standing here, minding my business while you’re off practicing.”

A small tut escapes his companion. The vaunted Warrior of Darkness, slayer of the Lightwardens and bringer of the night. The grand A’vett Verdanti himself, clad head to toe in sleepwear, with a frown reminiscent of a petulant child right on his face.

The Miqo’te hangs his chakrams on his waist and raises an exasperated glare at the spectre. “No, you’ve been _brooding_. Or just standing there with your head in the clouds. It’s a dancer’s job to raise his audience’s spirits, after all. And you, my good audience, are in a mood that’s far too down for my tastes. Maybe if you actually watched instead of just listening to the music, you’d feel better. I’d like to think I put on a good show.”

Ardbert knows quite well that he can put on a good show. He’s seen the other man in battle, mowing down sin eaters and monsters alike with those improbably-aimed chakrams and magical dances in tandem. He’s seen the man run around the Crystarium, starting sporadic performances for the citizens and occasionally his fellow Scions. He remembers one particular instance where he even dragged the city’s guard captain to join him, after much coaxing to the Viis’ extreme reluctance.

“If I recall correctly, you have quite the adoring audience whenever you do one of your shows. I think that’s proof enough they’re good.”

“T-true but… this is different.”

Ardbert’s confused expression and silence speaks volumes, prompting a light flush to grace the Miqo’te’s cheeks.

“Well, I mean… I’m used to big crowds. Grand-or at the very least big enough-stages. I’m used to the feeling of so many eyes on me while I dance. Part of being a hero, you know. Dancing here, even if it’s just practice, with just you watching feels much more… personal.” A moment later he adds in a quiet voice, “Or intimate, I guess.”

A blush rises on the Hume’s face. “Oh.” 

He… hadn’t considered that. This is indeed a far different stage from the one A’vett’s used to, if it can really be called one. This room in the Pendants is a space just for him (just for _them_ his traitorous mind adds). A space where he doesn’t have to be the Warrior of Darkness, the grand adventurer, the hero everyone and their mother counts on. Here he can just be A’vett. 

It’s also weird, seeing the other man in such an embarrassed state. The man before him is a far cry from the unflappable and invincible hero Ardbert is used to seeing.

(The idea of being the only one to witness this side of him stirs a feeling in the specter’s chest, one he’s not sure he wants to decipher the meaning to.)

Ardbert clears his throat and tries to will his blush away. “If it’s any consolation, the bits that I did see were rather good. You’re quite the natural.”

A’vett chuckles, earlier nerves ebbing away. “I’d like to thank my soul crystal for a good amount of the work there. And besides, it’s taken a lot of practice to get where I am now. And that’s only this style of dancing! I’m a complete novice when it comes to anything formal. Twelve forgive if I’m ever asked to attend some sort of ball.”

“Aye, I understand. I’ve got two left feet when it comes to that sort of thing. Any time someone tried to get me to dance with them it was more likely to end with broken toes than a finishing bow.”

“Hah! I apologize to your past partners. No one ever tried to teach you?”

Ardbert lets out a laugh. “Tried is the key word. Renda-Rae tried to multiple times before giving up. Hells, even Branden attempted to once. An hour or two later he was drowning himself in ale, bemoaning the fact that I was a completely lost cause.”

“Is that so…” A’vett mutters in a contemplative tone. His ears then rise in excitement as he bounds towards the orchestrion. Ardbert watches as he cycles through various rolls before finally stopping on a piece that practically oozes grandeur and formality.

“What are you-”

“Turn around and get out of your armor.”

“Excuse me?!” The Hume blanches at the order.

“I’m not asking twice,” Is all A’vett says, in a tone that indicates there would be several levels of hell to pay for disobeying.

Ardbert rolls his eyes, but nevertheless does as he’s told. “Can you at least tell me what I’m stripping down for?” It’s not as though he doesn’t have some inkling as to what the other man has in store, but the secrecy is completely unnecessary.

“Patience! I’m concentrating! Maybe this shade works better…” The specter tunes the Miqo’te’s quiet ramblings out, focusing on his own task.

It takes a few minutes for Ardbert to take off his armor, and then he stands clad only in a black long shirt and matching trousers. He forgoes his armored boots, deciding that he’d be better off barefoot for this. Whatever “this” is.

“There we go! Turn my way.” A’vett proudly declares. Ardbert turns around and his eyes widen at the sight.

There the other man stands, dressed in something completely different from his normal style. The Miqo’te is clad in a coat mixed with dark and mint greens, paired with a black slacks and boots to match the halfgloves he nervously paws at. “Well?” A’vett gestures to himself, hints of anticipation leaking into his tone. His usual grin falters slightly as he asks, “Do I look okay?”

It’s different. But a good different. A very good different. How can Ardbert properly articulate his thoughts?

_You look resplendent. You look like an angel. You’re so beautiful, so dazzling I can barely think to tear my eyes off you._

...No, Ardbert thinks, cringing at his previous thoughts. That’s a bit much.

“You look dashing,” is all he says and nods in appreciation.

A’vett lets out a shaky breath and puts his hands on chest. “Thank the Twelve! Guess the cost for this seneschal’s outfit was worth it after all. And I’m glad I chose to forgo the hat…” 

“Maybe. Now I feel underdressed.”

“Well, we can’t really do anything to fix that, you know.”

The sharply dressed Miqo’te clears his throat, and his nerves melt away into a quick and charming little smile. He dashes to the window and pushes it open, the picturesque night sky greeting the two of them. A’vett takes that moment and extends a hand to Ardbert. “Oh good sir,” he announces, barely able to contain the mirth in his voice, “won’t you do me the honor of a dance?”

The Hume sighs. This really _was_ the other man’s plan. “You can’t be serious.”

“Obviously, I am.”

"Did you not just hear me talk about how utter rubbish I am?”

“Of course I did. But, they weren’t professionals. I am though!”

“Didn’t you say you’re a novice?”

“It’s a good chance for us to practice together then!”

The shade raises his eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to risk broken toes?”

“Are you going to keep whining or dance with me, you lug? Sides, it’s not like I have to worry about armored boots crushing them.” A’vett retorts.

Ardbert tuts, but saunters over to stand before the Miqo’te. There’s a small moment of hesitation before he finally takes the other’s hand. Even with the discovery that he can touch the other man made long ago, it’s still such a shock each time he gets the opportunity.

(A small part of him wonders what it would be like to not let go. What it would be like to revel in the warmth of his hand, and maybe even his embrace for forever and a day.)

“Come on!” With a soft tug, Ardbert is thrown out those embarrassing thoughts and pulled straight into A’vett’s smaller frame. His mind is thrown to a standstill when they collide, and the brief sensation of the other’s warmth nearly sends him into utter disarray.

It takes a second for the Hume to recover. “D-don’t you know to give the dead their due? Not manhandle them like this?”

A’vett chuckles. “You’ve been through worse, I’m sure. But I didn’t realize you’re actually a soft little teddy bear, so I’m sorry.”

Ardbert’s reply immediately dies on his lips the second his right hand is maneuvered onto the Miqo’te’s waist and left is stretched to the side together with the dancer’s right.

“So,” the Warrior of Darkness begins, completely oblivious to his companion’s minor breakdown, “I’m not sure of any of Norvrandt’s dances or how similar they are to Eorzea’s, so we’ll just practice one of the ones I do know. For this one, all you have to do is follow these three simple steps. Normally you’d be in the lead since you’re taller, but for both our sakes I’ll show you what to do.”

The steps are easy, Ardbert thinks. Or maybe it’s because A’vett is the one in charge, making sure everything goes as smoothly as possible. The Miqo’te’s movements are a far cry from the so-called manhandling from earlier, A’vett’s guiding hands ever so gentle and the repetition of “one, two, three” from his lips serve to temper Ardbert’s nerves.

“You’re not too bad,” A’vett hums. “Either I’m a far better teacher than I thought, or you were just exaggerating!”

“It does you no good to get a big head over this, you know.”

“Maybe if you were inclined to show me those infamous two left feet of yours, I’d wouldn’t feel so proud!”

Ardbert snorts. “Laying the blame on me, then?”

A’vett raises a brow in return. “Is it not the case?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Their amiable silence continues for next dozen or so sets, but it’s broken as soon as A’vett stops them and asks, “Care to take the lead this time?”

The Hume blinks. “Think I’m ready to?”

“Yeah! You’re really not that bad at this. Are you sure you weren’t exaggerating about your complete and utterly terrible dance skills?”

“I never said they were _that_ bad.” Ardbert’s lip up turn into a smirk as he says, “But maybe it is due to my simply wonderful teacher.”

His words have their intended effect as A’vett’s ears twitch in glee and a soft blush begins to dust his cheeks.

“Flatterer.”

“I don’t hear you denying it.”

“Then I guess you aren’t wrong. So, you want to lead or not?”

“Why not? Let me have a go.”

The two rearrange their hands, and Ardbert begins with a long step.

It’s a shaky start, and this time Ardbert does actually step on the other man’s boot. But they quickly find their groove again. Slowly the steps become second nature, and the Hume can almost imagine them in a grand ballroom instead of a small suite.

In this fairytale setting, Ardbert would no doubt be dressed in something more fitting to the occasion. Maybe he’d deck in a suit fit for a prince, matched with a long and flowing cape. Or maybe something simpler and much less pompous. He’d make for a lousy prince anyway.

His fantasy is broken when he A’vett begin to hum, the orchestrion no longer playing it’s regal tune.

“What’s the song?”

“An original, actually. Composed by an adventurer friend of mine. When he’s not busy being a nuisance, he’s actually quite the bard.”

“It’s nice.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him your thoughts next time I see him.”

Ardbert closes his eyes and focuses again on A’vett’s humming, his soft voice lulling him back into their fairytale world.

Some time later, the two have given up on any sort of audience dazzling dance. A’vett’s arms rest comfortably on the Hume’s shoulders, and Ardbert’s hands lay gently on the Miqo’te’s waist as the two slowly spin around the suite.

When A’vett lays his head on the crook of Ardbert’s neck, the other man carefully opens an eye.

“Tired?” He asks in a gentle tone. The small noise he receives in reply is probably a yes. When Ardbert begins to pull away, A’vett quickly reclaims his spot in the Hume’s space.

“Just because I’m getting tired doesn’t mean we should stop yet.” The Miqo’te chastises.

The specter rolls his eyes, but takes that moment to rest a cheek on the top of A’vett’s head. “If that’s what you desire.”

“There’s no need for the magic to run its course just yet.”

Ardbert is inclined to agree.

Until the stars rest from their nightly vigil, this private dance for two can continue for as long as they want.

**Author's Note:**

> Postscript:
> 
> A'vett: Boy good thing the Exarch wasn't watching me else he'd think I've gone crazy.
> 
> G'raha, who totally has been watching for at least a few minutes: *concern*
> 
> Anyways, thanks to anyone who read this! Any kudos and comments are appreciated, and I hope you have a great day/evening!


End file.
